


Adore You

by the_burning_bookshop



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Canon Compliant, Drunken Flirting, Drunken Shenanigans, Emotional Hurt, First Kiss, Hurt No Comfort, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Sad Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:27:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22920985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_burning_bookshop/pseuds/the_burning_bookshop
Summary: A drunken demon strolls into an angel’s bookshop.Shenanigans ensue after Crowley is awestruck by Aziraphale's beauty.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 65





	Adore You

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was loosely inspired by the song Adore You by Harry Styles
> 
> Fair warning: it does not have a happy ending.
> 
> Takes place a few years after Aziraphale gave Crowley the holy-water thermos. Before Notageddon and the antichrist being born. 
> 
> This is my first fic for this fandom and I haven't written much in a very long time!! I'd love to hear any feedback in the comments and kudos are greatly appreciated. (:

The cool evening air felt crisp against Crowley’s flushed cheeks as he careened down the SoHo sidewalk, his feet taking him to the one place his drunken heart desires him to go. He nearly stumbled into a young couple as he took a swig from the open bottle of Chateauneuf de Pas in his hand. They gave him a nasty, judgemental look, but Crowley didn’t care; he was a demon on a mission.

He finally found himself standing in front of his destination and glanced through the bookshop window. It was dark inside apart from a flickering light towards the back of the shop. The angel was nowhere in sight, presumably in the back reading through one of his first editions. Crowley stepped forward and snapped his fingers, the previously locked doors miraculously opening for him. He paused and raised the wine bottle to his lips, finishing the last few sips before chucking it into the street behind him. He smirked to himself, proud of his demonic act; littering is positively evil, afterall. He snapped again and a second unopened bottle of Chateauneuf de Pas appeared in his hand before he stepped through the doorway.

“Aziraphale, you here?” He shouted as the door closed and locked behind him. The floorboards squeaked under his snakeskin boots as he took a few steps towards the dim light in the back of the shop. There was no response, but he continued forward, bumping into a couple shelves as he sauntered closer to the light. He heard one of the books tumble off the shelf and land on the floor with a loud _thud_ behind him, followed by a gasp coming from the direction he was walking towards. 

Suddenly Aziraphale stepped into view, the dim light glowing behind him. Crowley came to a halt when his eyes fell onto the angelic silhouette in front of him. “Crowley? Is that you?”

“‘Ello, Angel,” Crowley slurred with a grin. 

“Crowley, you frightened me. I thought you were an intruder. What are you doing here? You should have phoned me,” Aziraphale said, feigning irritation.

“Was in the neighborhood, thought I’d drop by,” Crowley replied casually. “Brought thisss,” he hissed, gesturing to the bottle of wine. “Thought y’might be intrust-- intrest-- _want_ a glass or two, but I can leave if you’d prefer.” He swivels on his heel to face the door again.

The floorboards squeak once again as the angel takes a step from behind him. “Well I might be inclined to have some wine… you came all the way here,” Aziraphale says, tempted. “Crowley, are you drunk?” He asks, already knowing the answer.

“Might’ve had a bottle already... Doesn’t matter, means y’gotta catch up, angel,” Crowley turns around grinning at the angel, knowing how easily tempted he can be if there’s a bottle of his favorite wine involved. 

“Oh dear, well, let me get a couple glasses. Come have a seat,” Aziraphale responds as he walks back towards the flickering light.. 

Crowley followed him slowly, trying not to bump into the shelves again. After a few steps he found himself in the back of the shop, lit with a couple candles. One on the table in front of the settee and one on Aziraphale’s desk next to an opened book. Aziraphale was already coming out of the kitchen area with two wine glasses in hand. 

Crowley froze at the sight of the angel in shock. Aziraphale wasn’t in his usual attire that consisted of several layers that covered nearly every inch of him. His tan jacket and velvet waistcoat were off along with his shoes. He was dressed in his usual khaki trousers, pale blue button-up shirt, and tartan bow tie, but nothing else. His sleeves were cuffed up nearly to his elbows revealing his fair-skinned forearms. “Angel…” Crowley breathed out softly in awe. He’d never seen the angel so….. Well the angel was practically _naked_ by Aziraphale’s standards.

Aziraphale didn’t seem to notice the awestruck demon standing frozen next to the sofa. “I suppose I should have a glass before you in order to ‘catch up’, as you said,'' he said, the corner of his mouth curling up in a mischievous grin. He looked up at Crowley and found that the demon was looking at him with an odd expression on his face. “Is something wrong, dear?” he asked, the grin falling from his face in worry.

Crowley quickly pulled his gaze away from the angel before making eye contact and shook his head. “Nah, angel, everythings great!” he said before sitting down in his usual spot on the arm of the settee. It’d be _very_ out of character for a demon to sit on the cushion, of course. 

Aziraphale continued forward and took the spot on the other end of the couch, which _was_ out of character for the angel. Crowley assumed the angel would be sitting in the chair across from him per usual. Crowley changed his position in order to face the angel, then opened the wine with a snap of his fingers. Before Aziraphale could say or do anything, Crowley was already filling his wine glass and handing it out for the angel. 

Their fingers met for only a moment as Aziraphale grabbed the glass from Crowley’s hand. He brought the glass to his plush lips right away, taking a sip and letting out a very unangelic moan as the liquor tickled his taste buds. “Mmm… this has always been my favorite. Thank you for bringing this, dear,” said before quickly taking another drink.

“Ngk… don’t mention it,” was all Crowley could say, his brain trying to force his body to ignore the sounds Aziraphale was making as he continued sipping from his glass. The angel wasn’t kidding when he agreed to ‘catch up’ to Crowley’s drunken state.

“What brought you here, Crowley? You usually call first and I was not expecting to see you any time soon after…” Aziraphale began but trailed off. They both knew what he was going to say, after all, no sense in bringing it up. 

Crowley knew why the angel didn’t continue. _After… you gave me a tartan thermos filled with holy water, you mean?_ Crowley thought to himself, not speaking the words. Not wanting to bring up any bad vibes into the air. Instead, he says, “just in the area, the bar a couple blocks down the road, didn’t wanna drink alone…” answering the angel a little more honestly than he’d like. Aziraphale looked up at him, but Crowley dipped his head to avoid the angel’s eyes. 

“Oh, well, I am glad you stopped by,” Aziraphale says softly and raises his glass to his lips, his first nearly finished already. There’s a few moments of silence before he reaches for the bottle that Crowley set on the table. “Here, let me fill your glass since I’m topping mine off. I have not drank in quite a while and I drank this first one so quickly I’m already feeling quite the buzz.”

“I can pour my own glass, angel,” Crowley says reaching to take his glass from the table. 

“Crowley, I’m already filling mine, allow me. Why don’t you take your glasses off? It’s just us, after all.”

Crowley hesitates. He doesn’t usually have them on when it’s just the two of them, but with Aziraphale’s half-dressed state, he isn’t sure if he can hide his staring. But, when can he ever say no to his angel? He obliges and sets them on the table before Aziraphale hands him his glass.

“Salutaria!” Aziraphale says with an excited smile before taking yet another drink.

“Cheers, angel, cheers. Nobody says ‘salutaria’ anymore,” Crowley shakes his head and tries to hide his smirk before taking a sip from his glass. 

He turns his head and silently watches the angel enjoy the distinct flavors of the wine. Aziraphale’s eyes are closed and his chin is tilted slightly upwards. The candle’s glow shines on his icy blonde curls haloed atop his head. His mouth is already tinted red from the wine and a drop glistens on his lower lip. The tip of his tongue quickly breaks through his lips to catch the drop before it falls and Crowley thinks it’s absolutely _scandalous._

_If this is what he looks like after a few sips of wine that he’s tasted a million times, I wonder what kind of faces he makes when he--_

“What brought you into the neighborhood, Crowley? Surely you weren’t just ‘in the area’ to get drunk at some random bar,” Aziraphale says, cutting off Crowley’s thoughts before they could get too far.

Crowley readjusts his legs in order to hide his body’s reaction to the tempting sight in front of him. “Quick temptation, as usual.”

“Crowley…” Aziraphale huffed in exasperation.

“‘Ziraphale, I’mma demon. Y’don’t hear me giving you grief about all the sweet little miracles you perform,” Crowley says, eyeing Aziraphale.

“Well, true, I suppose,” is all Aziraphale responded with before downing his second glass in one big drink. Crowley leans forward and grabs the bottle from the table. Aziraphale holds his wine glass close to his chest, keeping it away from Crowley so he can’t poor him another glass.

“Really, Aziraphale, don’t expect me to think you only want two glasses. S’your favorite,” Crowley says, annoyed.

“I don’t want to drink all your wine, Crowley.”

“I brought this for _you_. S’not like I can’t just miracle another bottle from my flat once this ones empty, anyways,” Crowley says holding out the bottle, ready to pour more into Aziraphale’s glass.

“I suppose when you put it that way…” Aziraphale holds his glass out toward Crowley and peers up at him through his eyelashes, a defeated grin on his lips.

Crowley begins to pour the glass and finally makes eye contact with the angel, expecting him to look away as soon as their eyes connect. Instead, Aziraphale just holds the demon’s gaze with a tender smile tickling the corners of his lips. His strikingly blue eyes hold onto Crowley’s amber ones.

Crowley finds himself unable to look away, awestruck by the angel’s beauty. How could he with those electric blue eyes suddenly sending pulses through his body? The glow of the candlelight softens Aziraphale’s features and creates a halo of light through his curls. Crowley’s mind short circuits. With his eyes locked onto the angel’s, the only thing he can seem to think of is leaning forward and capturing the angel’s plush, wine-stained lips with his own. “‘Ziraphale…” He breathes out.

“Crowley!!” Aziraphale snaps, pulling the demon from his dazed state. 

Crowley shakes his head and lifts the bottle, realizing he’s over filled the glass. Aziraphale leans forward quickly and takes a big gulp of the wine to keep it from pouring over the edge and dripping more onto the settee. “Oh, dear,” he stammered before making a move to stand up. “Let me get a towel to clean this up,” he gestured to the few drops that spilled onto the couch.

Crowley instinctively grabs his wrist before he can stand and takes the angel’s glass with his other hand. His eyes stay locked onto Aziraphale’s face as he sets the glass on the table, Aziraphale’s confusion written all over his face. Crowley slowly lifts himself off the arm of the settee and brings himself onto the cushion next to the angel, not breaking eye contact or letting go of Aziraphale’s wrist. 

“Crowley, I need to clean up the mess before it stains,” Aziraphale spits out, flustered by the demon’s close proximity. 

Crowley ignores the angel’s protests. “Angel…” he breathes out.

“What is it, Crowley?” 

“Angel, can I kiss you?” Crowley asks before his mind can stop him.

Aziraphale doesn’t respond, completely taken aback by the unexpected question. Instead he just stares at the demon facing him. His mind is running a million miles a minute. Of course, kissing the demon has crossed his mind a thousand times, but he tries to keep those thoughts locked in the far corners of his mind. 

“Angel?” Crowley whispers, ignoring the _‘what the fuck are you doing?!’_ his mind is screaming at him.

“Well I think it’s time you are cut off, Crowley,” Aziraphale says, leaning over to take the demon’s wine glass away from his side of the table. 

Crowley reaches out at the same time, gently grasping the angel’s hand and letting go of his hold on the angel’s opposite wrist. “I’m serious, angel.” He says softly. 

The demon’s tender voice brings Aziraphale’s eyes back to Crowley’s. He gasps at the vulnerable look in the demon’s eyes. “...oh, Crowley--” he starts, but his words are cut off by Crowley moving just a little closer. His hold on Aziraphale’s hand tightens slightly and his thumb grazes his knuckles, his eyes pleading with the angel’s. Aziraphale stares at him for a moment, thinking. This is a moment he’s thought about, _dreamt about,_ so many times. He’s about to say yes right then and there, but there’s a nagging in the back of his mind. “Crowley, I will not be tempted by you, you foul fiend,” he says, intending for his words to be harsh and push the demon away, but his tone is doing the opposite. It’s obvious he wants it, and Crowley can tell. 

Crowley scooches a little closer, his leg now pushing against Aziraphale’s. “Angel, you know how I feel. You’ve always known. I know you don’t feel the same, but… just let me adore you,” Crowley says weakly, not caring about the vulnerability in his voice. Aziraphale doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t push Crowley away either, so the demon leans in a little closer. “Angel, you deserve to be worshipped, let me show you… you don’t have to say anything, do anything, just let me adore you…worship you,” he urges.

Crowley’s whispered words send tingles all over Aziraphale’s body. He so desperately wants to let Crowley kiss him, ravish him, do as he pleases with him, but he can’t ignore the warning signs in his brain. “Goodness, Crowley, please, if either of our sides found out… the kind of trouble we’d get in…” he pleads. 

Crowley is quiet for just a moment before lifting his other hand and resting it on the angel’s soft, rosy cheek. “Angel, you know I wouldn’t let anyone hurt you. If they found out, I’d take the fall, I’d walk through fire for you, Aziraphale.” He whispers, so close that his words tickle the angel’s lips. 

Aziraphale can’t bring himself to say anything. He wants, more than anything, everything he is being offered, but he’s not sure if it’s worth the risk. The kind of trouble he would be in with Heaven… and the pain and torture they’d put Crowley through for tempting an angel. 

It’s clear that the angel, to Crowley’s complete bewilderment, is actually considering his offer, so Crowley pushes just a little further. “C’mon, angel, they’ll never even know. Just like The Arrangement, they’ll never even know.” 

_He’s not wrong,_ Aziraphale thinks. _We’ve had The Arrangement for centuries now and neither side has noticed at all…_

“Aziraphale, can I kiss you?” Crowley asks one more time, his thumb gently stroking the angel’s cheek.

“Yes,” Aziraphale breathes out, unable to resist any longer. He hears a small gasp then Crowley’s lips are pressed against his and is unlike anything Aziraphale ever dreamt it would be. He had expected Crowley to devour his lips like they were a glass of delectable wine. Instead, his lips are melting gently against his, moving slowly as if any sudden movement will make the angel disappear. Aziraphale can hardly take the tenderness of Crowley’s lips pliant against his own, and lets out a soft moan, which seems to send Crowley into a frenzy. He feels the demon’s serpentine tongue glide against his lip and gasps, then lets him in as his own tongue explores the delicious tastes Crolwey offers.

Crowley’s entire body is tingling and his mind is in complete and utter disbelief. Aziraphale’s lips are warm and soft and his tongue tastes like wine and Crowley just _cannot_ get enough. He feels himself harden in his tight leather pants with every sound his tongue elicits from Aziraphale and _oh, Satan,_ if Aziraphale keeps making those noises Crowley won’t last long at all. But he doesn’t care, he needs to hear more. He needs to give Aziraphale everything he wants and more. Crowley slowly moves his hand from the angel’s cheek to the back of his head, letting his fingers intertwine with Aziraphale’s silky curls, bringing out another gasp of pleasure from the angel. Crowley can’t help but smile against the angel’s mouth and he kisses the corner of the angel's mouth before dropping his head and nipping the angel’s neck. 

“Oh, Crowley…” Aziraphale moans breathlessly as a tongue glides down his jaw. He turns his head slightly, allowing Crowley to paint a path down his neck with eager lips.

“Anything, Aziraphale, I’ll do anything-- _give you everything_ you want,” Crowley breathes against the angel’s neck, desperate to give him everything he deserves. His hands are tugging off the angel’s bowtie, eager to taste more of Aziraphale’s skin.

“Oh, please… Crowley,” Aziraphale pleads between gasps. His hands pushing Crowley’s jacket off and finally falling onto the demon’s slender frame. Crowley shivers at the feeling of the angel’s warm hands through his thin shirt. 

_Fuck it,_ Crowley thinks before pulling himself up to straddle the angel’s lucious thighs. He hastily begins to unbutton Aziraphale’s shirt, exposing more soft, kissable skin. He bends down to kiss every inch he can see as he continues to undo the remaining buttons.

Aziraphale’s moans at the new position and Crowley’s mouth exploring every inch of his skin. He grinds up against Crowley instinctively, the demon feeling just how much Aziraphale is enjoying this by the hardness in his trousers. Crowley throws his head back with a groan at the sensation. Aziraphale quickly takes his chance to explore the demon’s exposed neck, covering it with kisses and tasting every inch. 

Crowley allows him to sneak in a few kisses before leaning forward and meeting the angel’s lust-filled gaze. He sits there for just a moment thinking _this must be a dream, I must be dreaming,_ then leans in to capture Aziraphale’s mouth once more. 

They enjoy the taste of each other’s mouths and the feeling of each other’s bodies grinding together for what could be three minutes or three hours before Crowley climbs off the angel’s lap, falling to his knees in front of him. He leans down and kisses the angel’s still-growing erection through the khaki trousers before palming it and looking up to capture his eyes. “May I, Angel?” he tries with his most seductive voice, but it comes out breathy and eager. Aziraphale groans, then nods in response. “I need to hear it, Angel,” Crowley says as his thumb rubs over the head of Aziraphale’s cock.

“Please, dear, yes. Please,” the angel begs.

Crowley undoes the button, gazing up at the angel through his lashes. “I’ve waited so long for this, angel…” then his slender fingers begin sliding down the zipper, “...so long, waiting for you to finally let me have this moment with you.”

Suddenly nerves gather in Aziraphale’s stomach. _What am I doing?_ The angel’s thoughts are suddenly running wild. _This is wrong… if we were to get caught…. No. I cannot do this. Heaven would never let us get away with this… the things they would do to Crowley…_

“NO!” Aziraphale shouts, making Crowley freeze with his fingers still locked on the angel’s fly. “Crowley, wait…. We cannot do this. You _know_ we cannot do this,” Aziraphale’s voice is shaky as he straightens his posture, pulling hips away from the demon and setting all the way back against the settee. 

“Angel… I told you, they’ll never know….” Crowley says oh so softly, his eyes pleading to the angel. 

“Crowley, I said no. I will not allow you to tempt me into doing _this_ with you,” Aziraphale’s voice is stern this time, (or, at least, he _hopes_ it is). He avoids the gaze locked on him, looking everywhere but the demon on his knees in front of him. He senses Crowley shifting around in front of him and waits. Waits for the screaming and shouting. Waits for the anger and hurt to poor onto him from Crowley. He waits and waits and… waits. 

But it doesn’t come. Crowley remains seated on the floor in front of him for a few moments, but it feels like an eternity. Aziraphale opens his mouth to say something. What, he isn't sure. But this silence is deafening.

Before any words could escape his lips, a cold, bony hand grasps his clammy one. Aziraphale gasps in surprise and finally, _finally_ locks eyes with Crowley’s. His heart breaks immediately at the crestfallen look on the demon’s face and the hint of tears filling his golden eyes. 

“Please, angel… don’t do this. Don’t let fear keep this from happening…” Crowley’s voice, soft and fragile, is unlike Aziraphale ever heard from the demon before.

“Crowley, dear boy…” the angel leans forward, lifting his hand to cup the demon’s cheek. “It isn’t worth the risk.” He says, his voice barely audible.

A single tear escapes and slides down his cheek to meet Aziraphale’s thumb. Crowley keeps his eyes locked with the angel’s, almost like he is trying to plead, _beg_ Aziraphale to give this a chance, but then he gives up. He shakes his head to free himself from the angel’s hold on his cheek. “Fine,” he says, pulling himself up to stand in front of the angel. “I don’t need this from you, anyway,” he lies while snapping his fingers together, miracling himself back in order. “This was for you… you’ll never know what you missed out on, Aziraphale.”

Crowley is already making his way towards the door and Aziraphale quickly stands and follows the demon, “wait, no. We can still drink the lovely wine you brought and chat… like we always do, Crowley,” the words are out of Aziraphale’s mouth before he even realizes what he’s saying. He just knows he can’t let tonight end like this. He can’t lose Crowley. “This doesn’t have to change anything,” his hand reaches out to grab the leather jacket cloaking Crowley’s shoulder. But before he can wrap his hand around the crisp leather, Crowley turns around to face him.

“Fat chance, angel. I’m leaving, gonna go fraternize other people, lots of other people,” he lies again and turns, his hips swaying as he takes the final few steps to the door. “Keep the wine, I have plenty more where that came from.” He says over his shoulder before pushing the door open and walking into the cool evening air. 

Aziraphale stands, frozen between the bookshelves, his heart shattering into more tiny pieces as he watches Crowley through the window, growing farther and farther away from him. The demon’s figure disappears from sight and Aziraphale falls to his knees, allowing tears to rain down his rosy cheeks for hours upon hours.

The demon, on the other hand, doesn’t shed any more tears. He saunters towards his flat, ready to sleep for another century or two.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a whore for comments. (: find me on social media! (Instagram: @the_burning_bookshop OR @hiddles_obsessed) (Twitter: @burningbookshop)


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